


whisper

by Ironinkpen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, Two dorks slooooowly falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironinkpen/pseuds/Ironinkpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All you need in the beginning is a little curiosity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whisper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherrycoloured](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrycoloured/gifts).



> I'm so sorry this is late! I had another fic written, but it just felt flat to me, and I had to write something new. Hopefully this fic is good enough to warrant the wait!

* * *

 

 

 

It’s a simple glimpse of long black hair in the hallway, a blond head ducked down, fingers toying with the split ends for the rest of the day and wondering about shampoo brands.

And that’s how it starts.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yachi Hitoka has not joined a school club.

It isn’t that she doesn’t _want_ to, per say, but whenever she resolves to do so, her brain comes up with millions of reasons _not_ to. Like, she won’t do well. Or, her upperclassmen will hate her. Or, even, everyone in the club is secretly a ninja and she’s their target.

Maybe she should just focus on academics instead. There was nothing wrong with that. A lot of people don’t join clubs and get into great universities because of their grades. She could do that! Unless, of course, something goes horribly wrong over the course of the next three years. Like her mother dies and she can’t handle the grief and turns to drugs and lets her grades drop and becomes a delinquent and lives the rest of her days out on the _streets_ because she relied on her marks and not actual applicable skills that are taught through school activities and-

“Excuse me? Are you currently in a club?”

And Yachi, little Yachi, who has sweaty palms and short limbs that tremble like a chihuahua’s when someone looks at her too long, who regularly watches over her shoulder for mafia hitmen, who is plain and small and ordinary, comes face to face with what must be the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her life.

 

 

* * *

 

 

And that’s how it starts.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yachi is nervous, Kiyoko notes, but she’s also a very quick learner.  She reminds her of herself when she was younger— shy, but with a spark under the surface that’s just waiting to be kindled. She looks at Yachi and sees brightness.

Currently, her position as a manager is tentative. Temporary. But, Kiyoko is nearly sure that she can convince Yachi to stay. Not because she has any particular confidence in her persuasion skills, but because she’s been in this position before. She just knows that the second Yachi sees a match, she’ll be hooked.

Because that spark in her eyes? That’s curiosity.

 

 

* * *

 

 

So, Kiyoko watches Yachi’s face carefully as Hinata crouches, like a lion the prowl, like a crow ready to soar, and flies up on the court, slamming down the a spike with all the strength of a boy much bigger than him in size. Watches as Yachi’s eyes light up, that little spark fed just a bit of timber, and _knows_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yachi never had direction. Or passion. She’d always contented herself with being in the background, with being the supporting character, a member of the stage crew, with being _Villager B_ -

But, now.

Now she wants to do something, and she wants to do it simultaneously for other people and for _herself_. And that’s scary. She hasn’t felt an urge like that in a long time.

She sits down and begins sketching thumbnails.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Villager B can fight, too! I’m going to be the volleyball club’s manager!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kiyoko sees the poster one day while running errands for her mother. It steals the breath from her lungs, but not just because of its beauty.

For whatever reason, as soon as Kiyoko sees it, she doesn’t really see Hinata spiking. She sees the hours of work put in by Yachi’s tiny, fluttering hands, and something gets planted in her chest. A spark of her own, of sorts.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It begins with curiosity.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yachi is a curious person. She is small and hesitant, but she rivals their oddball duo in intensity when she’s fixated on something. She’s incredibly talented as a graphic designer and a very good teacher, if her managing to keep Kageyama and Hinata’s grades up is any indication. Sometimes, she gets caught up in the usual excitement that comes with being part of their team and speaks in “Guwaah!”s and “Pah!”s that Kiyoko can hardly follow. She’s also in the habit of becoming so involved in her imagination that you only catch the tail end of whatever story she’s concocted when she blurts it out. Last week, she’d said something about the police searching for her because a vending machine accidently gave her two snacks instead of one.

And she’s cute, darn it. _Really_ cute.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yachi doesn’t really notice it- which is very strange considering how much _attention_ she always pays to the things happening around her- but soon Kiyoko is an ingrained part of her daily routine. It’s not just volleyball, either. Sure, there’s practice, practice matches, tournaments, team meetings, and training camps. But, there’s also quiet walks home. Stops at the coach’s shop for snacks. Phone calls about managerial duties, and phone calls _not_ about managerial duties. Days where Kiyoko seeks her out during lunch and sits with her, chatting about nothing important, smiling at her like-

One Saturday, Yachi rouses to the buzzing of her phone. She rolls over, gropes for it with sleepy, clumsy hands, and hisses when the bright light of her screen burns her eyes.

When she manages to wrestle the brightness down, what she finds is a text from Kiyoko that simply says: _Good morning ( ´_ _▽ ` )_ _ﾉ_

She spends the rest of the day staring at the text in awe, strangely fixated on the fact that Kiyoko uses emojis. She never pegged her as the type- wonders if anyone else knows. The thought that she may be the only one makes something in her belly grow warm. Makes her feel special.

 

 

* * *

 

 

One of the girls in her junior high class got a boyfriend. She was the first of the class to get one, so all the girls rushed to chat with her about it, congregated in Yachi’s classroom during lunch. Yachi hadn’t joined the conversation, was just watching from the sidelines, but remembered one exchange very clearly:

“How did you know?” One of the girls said. “That you were in love, I mean.”

The girl with the boyfriend, flustered by all the attention, laughed nervously and tried her very best to answer.

“I didn’t really- um, I always thought he was a little cute.” She buried her face in her hands and squealed for a second, scandalized by the admission. Her friends laughed around her good-naturedly. When she lifted her head again, her face was bright red and Yachi can still remember the way it glowed, not from color but from happiness. “But, I think I really figured it out when I realized that… I just wanted to know everything about him.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kiyoko doodles in her notebooks.

She gets embarrassed when boys give her too much attention. She thinks their school’s uniforms are cute, but prefers casual clothes. She’s bad at painting her nails. She used to run track and was very good at it. At any given time, she’s likely thinking about food.

Yachi hoards all of these secrets, tucks them close to her chest like she’s playing cards and doesn’t want anyone to see her hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I envy you, you know.” Kiyoko says one day as they watch the boys perform receives. She hadn’t meant to say it, doesn’t know why she did, but now the words are out there and demand to be acknowledged. She takes a peek at Yachi, who is sitting there gaping at her.

“Wh-Wha- _Why?_ ”

She says like the mere thought burns her, like she can’t believe Kiyoko would every envy _her_ of all people. Kiyoko’s tongue jumps with the urge to wipe away every insecurity Yachi has ever had, with the urge to make her see how _extraordinary_ she is, but instead she says, “You have something you’re good at. Your graphic design skills are pretty incredible, you know. And I just-” Don’t have that. Don’t have any strengths. Am graduating in a couple of months with no idea what I’m doing. “Envy that.”

Yachi’s mouth opens and closes, leaving her looking like a very startled fish, but a whistle cuts them off before anything else can be said. Selfishly, Kiyoko is glad for it. She suddenly realizes what she’s said is a little too heavy and a little to embarrassing. She gratefully takes the opportunity to flee.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re good at that.”

Kiyoko jumps at the sound of Yachi’s voice behind her, almost bumping Kageyama’s nose. With a quick turn back to her patient, she says, “keep your nose down, yes, I know people say to keep it up, no, trust me, you should keep it down,” and then gives her full attention to her guest. “What?”

Yachi is smiling at her, tiny and shy. “I saw Kageyama get hurt- hi, Kageyama- and I came down here to check on him b-but then I saw and! You’re really good! At taking care of people, I mean. You do this a lot, don’t you?”

Kiyoko blinks and supposes she does. Volleyball does come with many miscellaneous injuries. She has a first aid kit on hand during every practice, and usually has to use it.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Yachi says. “You’re good at it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s only later that she remembers her voice, her “you have something you’re good at,” and realizes that maybe Yachi is that one that’s making her feel extraordinary.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It takes a while, but she wraps her head around it. Maybe not Doctor Kiyoko, yet, but she can certainly picture Kiyoko the Med Student.

When the Future Plans surveys come around, as they always do, she shows hers to Yachi before turning it in, feeling awfully nervous about it. It turns out there was no reason to be—Yachi reads it and _beams_ , so genuinely happy for her that her heart stutters.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Karasuno wins at Nationals, Asahi spiking the final point. It takes a few seconds for Yachi to realize what’s going on, but when she does, she bursts into tears, hollering and cheering and roaring with the rest of the crowd, because these boys deserve it, deserve it so much, they’ve worked so hard, they’ve all worked so hard and Yachi’s heart is just _aching_ with it. She’s only known them for a year but she’s seen it. They’re amazing, they’re incredible, they’re dedicated, they won, they won, they _won_.

Yachi, unfortunately, was not allowed on the bench- only one manager could claim that right- but she shoves her way through the masses in a surprising show of crass, searching for a way to get to the court. When she finally manages to slip down a flight of stairs, she finds her whole team beckoning her over, opening up their circle for her to join.

She throws herself at them. Kiyoko is in the fold and the two of them are crying and grinning like madmen and Yachi wonders, for a second, if she’s feeling that ache, too. Because it’s still hurting Yachi, but she finds that it’s a good hurt, like a healing bruise.

Or like a murder of crows taking flight for the first time in years.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The upperclassmen graduate. The underclassmen weep and wish them luck, Yachi included. And, they say goodbye.

 

 

* * *

 

 

But, not really.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kiyoko expects to spend her first night at university in lonely, quiet contemplation of the year ahead. Instead, her phone is incessantly chirping with texts from the old members of the volleyball team. Suga had started a group chat earlier in the year, and it’s still very active. Suga sends encouragements, Asahi expresses nervousness about his classes, Yamaguchi assures him he’ll be fine, Tsukishima makes a jab at Kageyama’s intelligence, Kageyama retaliates, Tanaka and Noya say embarrassing things about how they miss her beauty, Hinata wishes them luck with their studying, Daichi reminds him that _he_ has to study, Ennoshita seconds that, Hinata and Kageyama suspiciously drop out of the conversation immediately thereafter—it’s all very familiar. Kiyoko feels herself comfortably lulled by the routine of it.

The only person who doesn’t text is Yachi. She tries not to be too saddened by that fact. She must be busy, Kiyoko reasons. And, it’s not like Yachi is specifically ignoring _her_. She just hasn’t sent a message in the very public, very active chat.

Right before she’s about to drop off to sleep, her phone buzzes one more time. She checks it, sure it’s something from Tanaka or Nishinoya, but it’s a private text. From Yachi.

It reads: _Good night._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kiyoko hates the taste of black coffee but drinks it because it gets her through most of her workload. She still doesn’t know what med track she’s going to take so she’s filling her general requirements now so she can focus on that later. She thinks she might go into something related to sports.

She’s joined up a track team at the university. Nothing too competitive, because she doesn’t have the time, but it’s fun, she says. She likes it.

She _doesn’t_ like her literature professor and absolutely _despises_ a book they’re reading and, honestly, she says she’s just going to read an online summary of it because she doesn’t want to suffer through it. Her favorite food is still Tenmesu and she still wonders about what snack to eat with her lunch and sometimes she’ll text Yachi asking her to make a decision for her, and Yachi has never felt more important in her life.

They tuck conversations like these between classes and tournaments and life. Kiyoko comes home the next year to cheer on Karasuno at Nationals. They lose this time, which hurts, but she meets up with Yachi in the hallway outside and pets her hair and assures her that, “It’ll be okay, we’ll win next year.”

_We._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Good night_ , Yachi texts every evening without fail.

 _Good morning (　´∀｀)_ , Kiyoko responds in kind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Karasuno wins Yachi’s third year. Kiyoko’s in the crowd again, along with all of their other upperclassmen. Nishinoya and Tanaka jump straight down from the spectator’s seating and onto the court and dog-pile Hinata and Kageyama, whose quick has won them the game.

Yachi throws herself into the mix and laughs and then their first years and second years and Daichi and Ennoshita and Suga and Asahi and _Kiyoko_ are there, too, and she feels that bruise-like ache again, blooming in her chest. Kiyoko’s eyes hone in on hers and she reaches out her hand and the two of them meet in the middle, fingers twining and squeezing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They realize it right then.

 

 

* * *

 

  

When Yachi graduates, Kiyoko is there.

After the necessary pleasantries and congratulations are exchanged, Kiyoko says, “You’re going to a university near me.” It’s not a question; it’s a restatement. Yachi told her that several months ago.

“Yes!” Yachi says back anyway.

And Kiyoko hands her a key.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kiyoko’s allergic to most flowers so they don’t keep plants. Yachi cooks breakfast most days because she’s an early riser, is good enough at it, and understands her roommate’s need for sleep, given her coursework. Kiyoko pays her back by picking up dinner at night.

Privately, the favorite thing either has discovered about the other is that they both like their kisses soft and slow.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Formatting this was weird haha
> 
> Happy summer holidays, cherrycoloured!


End file.
